It Breaks My Heart, But You'll Never Know
by SpazzJazz
Summary: After a drunken one-night stand, England ends up in a situation. It hurts him, but America shall never know. Warnings:Yaoi, Mpreg, drama, emotional problems, all that jazz. USUK, With some tiny Fruk romantic/brotherly moments
1. Chapter 1

A/N: With the way I wrote it, imagine it as like mental diaries England is recording.

* * *

><p>It was an accident.<p>

We had never meant to sleep with each. To make love.

Make love...I wish. It was just a drunken one-night stand. Nothing more, nothing less.

America and I were drunk off our arses, in memory it was a flurry of heated kisses and fervent touches. And as I proclaimed my love to the drunken American, sweet nothings were whispered into my ear.

But's thats all they were, they were nothing.

I awoke in his bed the next morning, I remember feeling numb as I dressed myself, except for my boxers, because I wasn't able to find them and stumbled out.

Only when I reached my home did I let out my sobs.

* * *

><p>It was only a couple weeks later when I began to get to sick. I didn't really think more about it, just a flu, most likley do to the economy of my country.<p>

But it got worse.

* * *

><p>I began to feel tired, all the time. I would sleep in late and once I missed a whole meeting because I slept through the day.<p>

I always had to pee, it progressed, I even sometimes dozed off when I was peeing, and would jerk awake immediatly.

* * *

><p>But the worst part is when I started craving French food.<p>

I was eating my scones when I noticed a particular smell about them. I smelled more closely and it made me want to throw up, think it was bad I just threw it away and went to make more. Unfortunatly, the new ones smelled disgusting as well. It smelled and tasted of an old sweat-infused couch that had been sitting out in the sun for several weeks.

In the meeting, that I was finall able to attend, a break for lunch was called, and I was unable to eat, all my food made me sick to my stomach. I sat there uncomfortably, hungry but unable to eat, when I smelled something utterly delicious.

I followed the smell to the sight of a certain frog hanging out with his two idiot friends. I wished to go over there and find out what was making my mouth water, but my pride and hatred of the trio prevented me from doing so.

Eventually, when Prussia was forced to leave by Germany and Spain was dragged off by South Italy, I managed to shove down my pride and make my way over.

France doesn't brag, he just smiles and I know he'll hold it over my head the next time he'll request something of me. But his dish was nice and well prepared, and as I stole his fork and used it to share his meal with him, I noticed America staring over at us.

* * *

><p>Then I started showing. I thought it was just Frog's high calorie food or something. But it wasn't fat, fat jiggles and alot of it has to be there for the stomach to actually be round.<p>

I went to the doctor, and when the blood tests came back positive I didn't know what to do.

I simply started crying.

* * *

><p>I refused to leave my house. I refused to have anyone see me in this weakened state.<p>

My bump was starting to get bigger. I cried for my baby. Well, babies. I was having twins.

* * *

><p>I think Francis was starting to suspect something was up.<p>

But I didn't tell anyone about the babies.

Especially not their father.

Their sweet, sweet father.

* * *

><p>I didn't have morning sickness anymore, but my back started hurting. And when I sneezed, I peed my pants.<p>

It was increasingly hard to keep people from suspecting what was going on. I mostly told people I was sick. But they were starting not to believe it.

America didn't call or visit at all.

Why was it breaking my heart?

* * *

><p>I feel fat. I feel huge and disgusting. I hate myself.<p>

It's my stupid fault. I went and got knocked up by a person who won't ever love me, who hates me.

I hate looking at myself. I've covered up every mirror in the house.

* * *

><p>I wake up to painful contractions and wetness in the middle of the night. They hurt and I have to grind my teeth from crying out.<p>

They're closer together.

It hurts so much, I need to call someone.

I dial the first number I think of.

* * *

><p>"Angletterre!" He catches me as I fall off the bed, trying to get to him.<p>

I clench his shirt, "It hurts."

He helped me back onto the bed, and he slides my sleeping pants and underwear off. I feel exposed, but he gives me my sheet to cover myself before I can complain. He grabs the necessary supplies.

"Push." He comands and I listen, I scream and cry and _it hurts_. I feel relieved for a second as he goes to take care of the baby.

But I catch him and ask about the second baby. His eyes widened and he moved back down and before I can ask, the pain starts again and I cry out again and again.

He is silent this time and the baby wasn't crying like his older sibling.

I ask what's wrong with my baby, my child. I see a tear roll down his face and I know what's happened but I don't want to believe it and ask to see my baby.

I demand it and he just shakes his head. He cleans the baby off and sets him down. Then goes to take care of the screaming child next to us.

He wraps the child and cleans it, and the baby falls silent with sleep, but I can't pay attention because my other baby, my little sweetheart won't wake up. I cuddle him silently and cry and I hear Francis crying with me, but I can't see him cuddling my baby because my other little one is silent and he won't cry.

I sob and eventually, Francis has to pry the dead infant from my arms. Francis holds me, kissing the top of my head and I pretended that he was Alfred.

He asks if I want to hold my son and I reply with a whisper, and he places the infant in my arms.

He's so beautiful.

* * *

><p>I name him Peter.<p>

He has my eyebrows but other than that he looks like Alfred.

He breaks my heart and heals it.

* * *

><p>I start showing up to meetings again. They're all curious, but I don't talk. Francis sits beside me and gives me silent comfort.<p>

America doesn't even look at me.

* * *

><p>At one point, Canada and America come over, to discuss issues of our countries. Throughout it I was afraid Peter would wake up from his nap and start crying.<p>

Lucklily, he was tired that day.

* * *

><p>Canada gives me a goodbye and leaves, America just leaves.<p>

* * *

><p>Holding my Peter, I sit at the grave of his brother. I named him Al.<p>

We're in the cemetary, there's a family a ways over mourning.

Peter starts crying and I have to leave to not disturb the family.

* * *

><p>Peter is now a toddler and the first word he learns is papa.<p>

He looks like little America, but without nantucket and with my eyebrows. He didn't inherit Alfred's strength, but he did get his optimism and determination.

Everytime I see him I think of Alfred.

* * *

><p>I didn't want Francis watching Peter, I trusted Francis, but not with small children.<p>

So I have to find someone who won't talk about it.

* * *

><p>Peter looked to be about a five year old and was stubborn.<p>

I like to think he got that from me.

* * *

><p>I ask Berwald and Tino to do it. They love kids and I know they won't spill.<p>

They fall in love him, like I did when I first saw him.

* * *

><p>He looks eight, and I don't want to keep him from the world.<p>

So I claim he is Sealand.

When I tell him this he seems to believe it and is determined to make himself a country.

His reason:

"I want to be as great as you someday."

The other countries believe this white lie as well.

* * *

><p>He demands to see his "country". I take him there and he falls in love with the dump and the little white kid that follows him around and headbutts his thigh, the little horns barely showing.<p>

He spends more time on his little piece of land and less time with me.

He breaks my heart everytime he leaves.

* * *

><p>I visit my little lost baby more often now and since Peter is older he'll sometimes tag along.<p>

"_So this is my baby brother?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Are you sad about him papa?"_

_"Sometimes."_

_"Do you wish Al survived instead of me?"_

_I scooped him up, his sad face sending familiar pains through my chest. Hugging him I replied, "If he could've lived that would've been wonderful, but I would never wish for him to take your place."_

_"Okay papa."_

* * *

><p>In public. "Sealand" calls me brother. Once he slipped up and called me papa, luckily it was only around Italy and he didn't notice.<p>

* * *

><p>France think I should tell America about Peter and Al. But I refuse.<p>

He just shakes his head, like he's dissapointed about my resolve.

* * *

><p>I simply don't want to face Alfred's rejection. His disgust at producing something with the disgusting me.<p>

The only reason he slept with me is because he was drunk. Beer goggles, I think is what they're called.

* * *

><p>Sometimes I think Alfred suspects me, he'll stare at Peter and look like he's concentrating on something, then he'll glance at me, and look back at Peter.<p>

I hope I'm just being paranoid.

* * *

><p>France cornered me during the break for the world meeting.<p>

He threatened with "If you don't tell Amerika, I will."

I broke down and cried, pleading and begging for him not to.

He said he'll give me a year.

* * *

><p>I don't want to tell Alfred.<p>

He'll be disgusted and then he'll get mad because I didn't tell him, or he'll be mad because it was my fault Al died.

I cry myself to sleep.

* * *

><p>This night, Peter had slept over at my house and he'd had a nightmare.<p>

He saw me crying and wanted to know why.

He was stubborn and determined to find out.

_"Because I made some bad decisions."_

_"What did you do?"_

_"I fell in love with a person who doens't love me back."_

_"That's not you're fault! And how do you know that they don't love you? Have you told them?"_

_"Baby you don't understand. It's complicated, you find out when you're older."_

_"Who'd ya fall in love with?"_

_"You're father."_

_"So was I a mistake?"_

_"What?"_

_"If falling in love with him was a mistake, was making me a mistake?"_

_"No, Peter, you were unexpected, but you're definetly not a mistake."_

_"Okay, Papa. But I have a question."_

_"Hm?"_

_"Who's my daddy?"_

_My eyes softened, "You know America?"_

_"Him? Wow, is that why he stares at me? I thought he was just a creep."_

_I laugh, "No baby, he's not a creep."_

_He giggled. But stopped and adopted a serious look, "Is he why you're crying?"_

_"Sort of, but it's difficult."_

_He frowned and hugged my neck. "Please don't cry over him, papa."_

* * *

><p>The next day he walked right up to America and stomped on his foot.<p>

America yowled and grabbed his foot, angrily he stared down Peter and yelled, "Why the hell didja do that!"

Peter only narrowed his eyes and did it to the other foot.

It was kind of funny, but then Germany yelled at me...

* * *

><p>France warned me that my year was almost up.<p>

I still don't wanna tell America

* * *

><p>Peter has taking a liking to France. He thinks France as the "creepy uncle" that it seems almost every family has.<p>

* * *

><p>Once France and I walked, while Peter sat on Francis' shoulders.<p>

It was nice out and sunny. We were in America for the conferance.

I saw America and Francis saw him right after I did.

He nudged me and I turned red and shook my head.

America saw me and ran up, it made my mouth go dry.

"Hey England, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you?" He glared at France and Peter, "Alone."

France smirked, "Don' worry Amerika, we will leave you alone for this moment. Angletterre, see you tonight?" He gives his little laugh and winks, before leaving me and Alfred in an awkward silence.

"Hey um, England, I wanted to tell you something..about that night..."

My eyes widened and felt the blood drain from my face.

"I, um, well I wanted to let you know, that in my mind it wasn't a mistake and IthinkIloveyouandIdon'tknowwhattodo'cuzyouseemtohangoutwithFrance and-"

"Alfred slow down, I can't understand you."

"I think I love you."

I gape at him and I feel like crying.

He's looking at the ground and fidgeting, grabbing him-I slam my lips onto his.

He responds back as soon as I move my lips.

He break apart and I can feel myself blush.

He laughs and pulls me too his chest.

I grab at his jacket, to gain balance, and my hand slips into his pocket.

Feeling material, I am naturally curious and pull it out. I see my pair of black boxer briefs that I had forgotten years ago.

I gaped and he laughed nervously before grabbing them and stuffing them back into his pocket.

"Why'd you keep those?" I was curious.

"Well, you left them and I didn't think it was going to happen again, so I kept them as a kinda souveneir(sp?) type thing."

I shook my head and hugged him.

Now here comes the bad part.

"Alfred, I have something to tell you."

* * *

><p>Okay, so it's like four in the morning and it took mre FOREVER to finish this. So here ya go. I might make another one, this time with different points of views and Alfred's reaction to being a father and how one didn't survive.<p>

But it prolly won't happen...


	2. Happy Ending

I felt Arthur grip my hand tighter as I looked down at the small grave.

_This…this is my child…?_ I felt ashamed of myself. I wasn't there to help Arthur and I wasn't there to save my baby.

I could feel tears pricking at my eyes and I went to wipe them away.

Arthur looked up at me; his eyes were soft and doey. I wrenched my hand away from his.

Before he could look hurt I jerked him into a hug. Burying my face into his hair, I sobbed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I whispered to him. He pulled back slightly and tears were streaming down his face.

His hands grasped my face and he wiped the tears away. I grasped his hands and he pulled me down for another kiss.

He pulled away and I opened my eyes. I hadn't realized that I had closed them.

His soft lips were close to mine again and he whispered;

"It's okay. I forgive you."

* * *

><p>France looked at the scene from a distance, Peter holding his hand.<p>

"So, Papa will stop cryin' now?" 'Sealand' was serious in his question, looking up at Francis with a somber expression.

The Frenchman looked down at the little boy. "Yes, I think he will."

"That's good." They stood in silence for a few minutes before Peter spoke again.

"I guess I like him some. Since he made Papa feel better."

* * *

><p><em>Three months later<em>

"Hey Peter, wouldn't you like a new sister or brother?" Alfred looked down at the micro nation.

"Hmm, maybe, if they aren't loud. Super Larry's wife just had a baby and its sooo loud!" He complained and Alfred laughed, Arthur sending a glance in their direction.

"You know, Peter was very loud during the night. And then you slept all day."

"I was not!" Peter cried indignantly.

"You were." Arthur insisted, turning the page of his novel.

Alfred watched the small argument with amusement.

"I could've never been that small and loud and _stinky_!"

Arthur's lips curled into a small smile, "Oh, but you _were_. At one point so was Alfred and me."

Peter seemed to think this over. "Well, I guess if you and Daddy were I guess I could've been too. But I never peed the bed, right?"

Arthur laughed, "No, that was Alfred," he paused for a moment and smiled.

Alfred was too distracted by Peter calling 'Daddy' to be embarrassed. Peter had _never_ called him Daddy.

It was always, America or him or Alfred.

Peter cocked his head at their silence. "What?"

Alfred tackled him in a hug and Peter huffed.

"Get off! You oaf!" He pushed at Alfred, but Alfred was too happy to let him go.

Peter yanked at Nantucket. Alfred yelped and leapt back.

Rubbing his cowlick, Alfred smiled at Peter, "You wanna go out for ice-cream?" Peter's eyes lit up and he nodded his head excitedly.

"Okay, go get ready and we'll go." Peter yelled a "Yay!" and ran off.

Arthur sighed and closed his book and set it on the side table.

"You spoil him."

"So does Finland and Sweden!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face indicated he was anything but upset.

"Besides, I think ice cream will butter him up for his surprise." Arthur stood and kissed him.

Alfred rubbed Arthur's stomach.


End file.
